


Good Times Gonna Come

by aSofterPunk



Series: Punk AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bruises, Discussions of abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Neglect, Implied abuse, Punk AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 10:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aSofterPunk/pseuds/aSofterPunk
Summary: Some nights are worse than others. On those nights, Virgil always has a place with his best friend.





	Good Times Gonna Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Punk AU- find more at asofterfan.tumblr.com <3

Logan was completely, utterly, _painfully_ bored.

It was a Thursday night, just approaching 9pm, and Logan was laying sprawled across his bed with his laptop open in front of him. “Bill Nye Saves The World” played on the screen, but the boy was hardly paying attention, having watched it probably five times already. Huffing, he tried to blow his bangs out of his eyes, only for the blue stands to stubbornly fall back exactly where they were before.

Sighing, Logan stared at the ceiling in annoyance. Part of him regretted always finishing his homework so early (the assignments for tomorrow had been done on Tuesday). In theory he should try to get to sleep, seeing as how it was a school night, but he felt restless and… stubbornly awake.

He was debating whether to try making some tea, or maybe rereading one of his books, when his phone lit up on his night stand, a soft chime reaching his ears. The sound repeated as he picked up his phone, unlocking it to find two new messages.

 **V** : _Hey_  
**V** : _You home?_

Logan raised an eyebrow at the text, wasting no time in typing a reply.

 **Lo** : _Where the FUCK else would I be??_

He waited a moment, anticipating an equally snarky response. His phone chimed a few second later.

 **V** : _Let me in_

Logan shot out of bed, stumbling out of the room, and he was already halfway down the stairs when his phone lit up one last time.

 **V** : _Please_

As he threw open the door, Logan was sure he looked ridiculous. Blue hair sticking up in every direction and wearing nothing but star pattern boxers and a ratty black shirt with “bad wolf” scrawled across it in white text. But he spared no thought about his own appearance as he took in that of his best friend.

The street outside was dark and quiet, the whole world a shadow for Virgil to hide in. He looked much the same as he had when Logan last saw him as they had left school earlier that very day. Ripped, patched jeans, black combat boots shuffling on the porch, jacket pulled tight around himself, hood up and bangs hanging in his downturned face. His backpack was slung over one shoulder.

He looked tense.

Something about the way Virgil was holding himself, stiff and careful, made Logan swallow back the harsh demands as to why he was here. Instead, he simply stepped aside, releasing a soft “hey” as he motioned Virgil inside. Closing the door behind him, he turned back to Virgil, trying to think of a gentle way to get some answers. But before he could open his mouth, Virgil pulled his hood down and raised his head slightly, allowing Logan to see the darkening bruise blooming across the left side of his jaw.

Screw gentleness.

“Holy _shit_ , Virge!” Logan leaned to the side to get a better look, knowing better than to try to touch Virgil just yet, “You’re face is going to be the color of your hair by tomorrow! What did she hit you with, a _car??_ You know what, don’t answer that, we need to deal with this first.”

Logan knew he was rambling, but he didn’t really care. Holding out his hand, there was only a moment of hesitation before Virgil took it, allowing Logan to drag him into the kitchen.

“It doesn’t look swollen and also I know you’re not a _total_ dumbass so I’m assuming nothing is broken, but Jesus does it look gnarly.” Flipping on the lights as he went, the two made their way through the household until they reached the large kitchen. “It looks like that time I accidentally grabbed your chin while I was still wearing the gloves for your dye. Remember that? And you kept rubbing at it and it just spread it around more until we googled how to get it off? Yeah. You look just like that.” Logan pulled out one of the stools at the center island, gently pushing Virgil to sit.

“I don’t even eat blueberries,” Logan ranted as he pulled open the freezer, “I don’t even know why I would buy frozen blueberries. Oh wait! I _do_ know why! It’s because neither of us can seem to stay unscathed for more than a few days at a time. And sure, I could buy, like, an actual ice pack, but there’s something about the aesthetic of bags of frozen produce against bruises that I am loathe to give up.” Virgil let out a huff of laughter, lips quirked into a soft smile, and Logan felt something in his chest relax as he moved to sit in the stool next to him.

Keeping his motions slow and clear, Logan reached out, bringing his hands to either side of Virgil’s face. One hand held the frozen fruit to the bruised side of Virgil’s jaw, while the other rested soothingly against his cheek, thumb gently brushing against faded eyeshadow.

Closing his eyes, Virgil sighed, “…Thanks Lo.”

Logan nodded, “Anytime.” Inhaling deeply, he forced himself to ask, “Is there anywhere else?”

Virgil shook his head as much as he could while his face was held still, letting out a soft but sincere, “No.”

Sighing in relief, Logan stood, “Hold this for a second.” Virgil brought a hand up to hold the blueberries in place while Logan went to one of the cabinets next to the sink. “I’ll get you some tylenol and some water. You should probably eat something too,” Virgil could always stand to eat more.

Returning with two pills and a glass of water, Logan furrowed his brows as Virgil set the makeshift cold pack aside, revealing the darkening mark once more. It already looked bad, and it would only look worse tomorrow. As he sat down and handed the painkillers over, Logan couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “God, she’s usually more careful about hitting the face so hard. What set her off?”

Virgil froze, glass halfway to his lips. After a moment he completed the motion, sipping slowly and swallowing the pills. Placing the glass on the counter, Virgil avoided Logan’s gaze as he spoke.

“It… it wasn’t her.”

Logan blinked, mouth opening and closing a few times before finally managing to spit out, “What?”

Virgil’s eyes dropped to the ground, but Logan slid off his seat to kneel in front of him, gazing up at his best friend, “ _Virgil._ ”

There is a moment of silence before Virgil manages to take a shuddering breath and the words start tumbling out.

“Mom was yelling at me. The usual stuff, you know, and I thought… I thought it was just gonna go the same as always. And then she said something, I think she was calling me lazy, and dad kind of laughs a bit from his chair and suddenly she turned and just… started _screaming_ at him. Saying it was his fault I’m such a problem, and he never stands up for her or takes her side, stuff like that. She just yelled- or, I mean, she threw a picture frame at the wall, but that’s it. And then after she stormed off dad… I mean, you know how he is, he _always_ has something to say after she… but he didn’t say anything at all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry. I mean, even the other times-“

“Other times?”

Logan knows it’s a mistake to interrupt Virgil, can see it in the way Virgil’s breath stutters and his throat seems to close up at the lost momentum. But he has to ask, “Virgil, you said he doesn’t hit you.” He knew Virgil’s father was his own brand of awful, hurting his son in his own way, but Logan had thought…

Virgil let out a shaky exhale, “He doesn’t. Not really. But… but I mean he _has_. Not a lot though. This is the third time he’s hit me.”

Moving to return to his seat, Logan feels his teeth clench, “That fucker.”

“It’s fine-“

“It is _not_ fine!”

“Logan-“

“You don’t deserve this, Virgil,” Logan says firmly. This is always the hardest part. He could ice bruises and bandage wounds and offer painkillers, but there was shrapnel in Virgil’s soul that was harder to dig out.

Silence stretches, Virgil not arguing but clearly not agreeing either.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, “Do you think… I could stay here tonight?”

Logan hates that even after all these years, Virgil’s voice still shakes when he asks, always bracing to be turned away. He hates that Virgil feels the need to ask at all, hates the way Virgil is constantly offering Logan an out. And he _hates_ that he’s never managed find the words to explain that Virgil is more of a home to him that these walls will ever be; that sometimes he wants to burn this place to the ground but he doesn’t because he knows that Virgil needs this shelter and he could never deny him anything.

“Duh,” Logan reaches out with his left hand to clasp Virgil’s right upper arm, pressing their forearms together and Virgil lets out a soft sigh that let’s Logan know he understands. “I was bored out of my mind before you got here, no way I’m letting you leave me alone now,” Virgil snickers, wiping at his eyes as Logan pulls him to his feet, “Besides, I think John misses you.”

Virgil gasped dramatically, “Logan, have you been _neglecting_ my _best friend_?”

“Oh, shut up!” Logan laughed, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry before they made their way upstairs.

“I bet Gary has been bullying him!” Virgil grinned, “We both know he’s a hooligan!”

“If anyone’s a hooligan it’s John!” Entering his room, Logan rushed to his bed, quickly snatching the stuffed turtle lying next to his pillows and tossing it at Virgil. “Tsugarensis has never done anything wrong in his _life!_ ” He grabbed his stuffed octopus and clutched it to his chest defensively.

Virgil giggled as he caught the stuffed turtle. The felt shell was covered in sharpie drawings- hearts, fish, and anchor “tattoos”, a new one drawn every time Virgil got new ink of his own- and had an old hoop earring pressed through the fabric below the embroidered smile on it’s face. At nine years old, Logan had had no idea what to get Virgil for his birthday, no means of buying anything himself, and so he had taken the stuffed turtle that had sat in his toy chest for years and shyly given it to the other boy. Virgil had nearly cried at the gift, hugging it close and, when asked what he would name him, blurting out “John!” in a panic, the first name that had come to his mind. The two had played together all day, Logan rambling ocean facts as he moved his faded stuffed octopus to swim around Virgil’s head. When the time had come for Virgil to go home, the other boy had hesitantly held the turtle out to Logan.

“It’s yours now,” the young boy had titled his head in confusion, “you can take it with you.”

But the nine-year-old had shaken his head, “I… I know he’s mine, but I think… he should stay here,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “so nothing happens to him.”

Logan hadn’t understood at the time, but he had taken the turtle back, keeping him safe in his room and returning him to Virgil’s arms whenever he was over. Now, the teenagers sat together on Logan’s bed, arguing over whose plush animal was the biggest trouble maker, devouring chips as they debated about anything and everything just for the fun of it.

Eventually, Logan glanced at his clock groaning when he saw it was just past midnight.

“Uuuuugh fuck school! Let’s just have a long weekend, it’s not like we learn anything useful there anyway.”

“I’m sure most of the teachers would be ecstatic over your absence as well.”

“Fuck you, I am a goddamn delight.”

Virgil giggled, patting Logan’s head sarcastically, “Of course you are. Hey, maybe if we play our cards right we can convince Patton and Roman to skip during lunch.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Roman will take two seconds to convince and then he’ll just drag Pat over whether he likes it or not.”

“Yeah, we can just remind Ro that I haven’t seen Ponyo yet and he’ll be over in a heartbeat.”

Laughing, Logan nodded in agreement, “Sounds like a plan,” sliding off the bed, Logan stood and stretched his arms over his head, yawning as he walked over his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, “Here, go get changed and stuff, we should at least try to get some sleep I guess.”

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch or-“

“If you’re not in that bed in ten minutes I’m kicking you ass,” Logan glared, throwing the sweats into Virgil’s arms. The purple haired boy laughed, just as he did every time the two of them had this exact conversation. A few minutes later Virgil returned from the bathroom, setting his things aside before turning off the lights and crawling into bed beside Logan. He had barely gotten settled under the covers when Logan rolled over, flopping to lay across Virgil’s chest.

“Oof!” Virgil grunted as Logan landed on him, “Lo!”

“Shut up, you’re comfy,” Logan mumbled, shoving his head under Virgil’s chin. They each giggled as they took a moment to arrange themselves and get comfortable. By the time they stilled, Virgil could feel the last of the tension leave his body, sighing as he closed his eyes.

Tomorrow they would pretend the world outside didn’t exist, and they would eat cereal out of the box, and Logan would suggest they give each other sloppy makeovers so that Virgil wouldn’t feel awkward smearing foundation over his jaw, and Roman and Patton would skip their afternoon classes to join them with movies and junk food, and they would all pile together on the couch, laughing and joking and feeling happiness all the way down in their bones. Feeling safe. Feeling home.

Logan held him a little tighter.

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

“Night, Lo.”


End file.
